


Sharing

by Tallihensia



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Multi, OT3, Romance, brief Waverly, exploratory, first times ot3, leading UP to the porn, minor focus on Napoleon & Gaby, partners and more, porn is ot3, truncated mission fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallihensia/pseuds/Tallihensia
Summary: A mission where they take on different roles leads to new discoveries and a readjusted team dynamic.





	Sharing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Franzeska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franzeska/gifts).



> Down the Chimney exchange fic for Franzeska who liked Napoleon and Gaby's interactions at the beginning of the movie, and wanted to see how they would get together to make an OT3 work - in all the ways :)

"No," Illya said flatly. "Is stupid plan."

The other three around the table all looked at him with varying degrees of resignation and annoyance. 

Illya huffed out his displeasure. "For under-cover role, I could do it, if required. But is ridiculous to put me in when Solo is right here. Much better if Solo and Gaby take the fascist gala party and put me down at the docks. A dock worker with a scar and a temper is less memorable – and less trouble – than a corrupt rich tourist and equally corrupt and bored wife."

Waverly shrugged and very softly commented, "That's what _I_ had thought..."

Illya took Waverly out of his glower and focused it on the other two. 

Napoleon coughed. "Don't take this the wrong way, Peril, but I have no desire to experience a broken jaw. That happened once, a long time ago, and it was very painful – not to mention hampering my lovely speaking voice and eloquence. Spy work goes better if I can talk to people."

It didn't take long for Illya to figure out what Napoleon was talking about. He shook his head. "You are horrible spy and relentless womanizer, Cowboy, but fairly sure you won't call Gaby a..." he stopped abruptly, then coughed and went on, "or brag about how many other female agents you have broken to know their place."

The other three all looked startled. Gaby in particular blinked. "He told the doctor you got jealous when he was going to ask me out on a date."

Illya shook his head. "You are your own person. Can make own decisions and defend yourself. Not all others can do the same."

Waverly leaned forward, "If Agent Carson said that, Agent Kuryakin, you should have reported it to me. Lord knows that spies have egos and are not always saints – not in our line of work. But there are lines we will not cross in UNCLE." With a sigh, he drew a notebook in front of him and wrote out a quick memo. "I'll have internal investigate. That is very disturbing, especially as he then used the incident to further try and discredit you."

"Very convincingly," Napoleon added, a frown upon his face. "Sorry, Illya. We should have known better."

Illya shrugged. His temper was more infamous in reputation than in actual incidents. He didn't hesitate to use it as a weapon as needed, and he didn't particularly care what others thought of him. He had, however, forgotten yet again that UNCLE was structured differently than his other assignments. Nobody else would have cared – not when compared with Carson's success rate as an agent.

"So I'll take the docks." Stretching out, Illya snagged the folder that had been placed in front of Napoleon. He slid the one he'd been given over to replace it.

After he'd done that, he paused both physically and mentally. The way Napoleon had phrased it was about Illya, but there were more in the op... he turned to Gaby, "If Chop Shop is okay with change."

Gaby blinked. Then she glanced between Napoleon and Illya, as if realizing what the change also meant for her, and not just Illya. "I'm, um... That's fine with me." No betraying flush changed the color of her skin – a good spy indeed. It was only acquaintance that showed her slight nervousness.

Waverly cleared his throat. "All right then, chaps. If that part is settled, I'll leave you three to work out more details of your plan. I'll just nip down to personnel and have a few words there." He carefully made his exit look like a planned transition and not a quick retreat from messy emotion stuff between his trio top team.

Napoleon watched the door close. "Coward."

Gaby snickered. "Smart man."

"One can be both of those at same time," Illya contributed. Working under Waverly was unlike any superior in the field he'd ever had, and the man had both his respect and his frequent exasperation.

The other two laughed. "True."

They then settled and looked at each other. They had had many assignments together, but their roles tended to be either platonic, romantically paired with Illya and Gaby, or siblings with Napoleon and Gaby. This would be a switch for them. 

"You're sure you're okay with it, Peril?" Napoleon, as usual, was the first one to speak of it. "From all accounts, we're not going to be able to get away with just a little snuggling and dancing at this party. They expect more... public displays of affection between couples."

"And again," Illya replied dryly, "better you two than me." He grimaced. He _could_ do it if needed, but he really didn't _like_ to. Give him a good fight any day over messy false touching. He shrugged. "If you are worried about my temper, do not throw me into that mix."

"I'm worried that you might think I'm betraying you," Napoleon responded rather sharply, not taking the extra bait. "Which I would not do."

Gaby winced, still slightly sensitive over their first assignment and her role in it, even after they'd settled into a working team with UNCLE.

Illya glanced over to her, his expression softening. She'd always been a strong and resolute agent, and she was becoming a first rate spy in her own right. "Gaby is her own person. What is between us is good, but we are spies. The mission comes first – if it did not, one or the other of us would have to leave, and that will not happen. No?"

"No," Gaby agreed resolutely. "This is what I want to do." She got up from her seat and moved over to Illya, wrapping her arms around him and putting her chin on the top of his head. "Thank you for respecting that."

Illya put his hand over hers where they rested on his chest. He looked to Napoleon, who watched them with fond approval. "It should be no hardship. Chop Shop has wanted this since you two escaped Berlin together."

With an undignified squawk, Gaby unwound her arms and stepped back. Napoleon stiffened to an unnatural stillness and then slowly raised one careful eyebrow.

Illya hid his satisfaction. He enjoyed unsettling his partners – they both tended to be very smug and often lectured him when they thought he wasn't acting to their satisfaction. Turning the tables on them was something to be relished. "That first time in the dress shop... Gaby was not angry at having to partner with me – you were upset at not getting to play the fiancée role with Solo. Not that Cowboy had bothered to tell you otherwise until I walked in."

"Were you listening outside the shop before you came in?" Napoleon tried to pin it back on Illya with a frown. 

Illya didn't even bother to dignify that with an answer, instead keeping his attention on Gaby. She was very cute when angry. 

After a moment, Gaby gave up her anger for a laugh, which was just as precious to Illya. "All right. Yes, I had expected it the other way. And had been looking forward to playing that role. Napoleon is very cuddly." She winked at him with a grin.

Napoleon tried to look exasperated at her use of his first name, but it just came out fond and proud instead. They were wearing him down bit by bit with this team.

"He thinks the same," Illya put in. He waited until their attention returned to him again, with Napoleon slightly wary. "Going against all training and mission accords to ignore securing the bad guy to instead pull Gaby out of the car... so focused on worry for Chop Shop."

It had taken some months of prying and casual debriefs to finally figure out the exact sequence of events when Alexander had been run off the road. Napoleon had slipped up and reluctant to say so. Eventually, though, Illya had gotten it pieced together... and had been waiting ever since to rag Napoleon about it. The flush on Napoleon's face as he tried to deny it and couldn't was Illya's reward for his patience. 

Gaby made a sort of purring sound, discovery wrapped in it as she regarded Napoleon and the deepening red on his face. She had told Illya of those early parts being pulled out and held so tenderly. This must be satisfying for her now.

Illya grinned, happy enough to have provoked both reactions.

Then Gaby turned on him. It was, after all, part of her nature to do so. Dangerous, for all she was half his size.

"If we're talking repressed desires from the start," Gaby kept the purr in her voice as she talked, "it wasn't _my_ name you called out for during the night after the harbor incident."

In some things, Illya was not nearly as good a spy as Gaby. He felt his face instantly heat up and cursed the betrayal. 

"Oh?" Napoleon leaned forward, his own blush receding in favor of exploring Illya's. "Really..." His voice was the one he used while working out complicated puzzles and plots in the missions, along with a hefty dose of self-congratulations as well. He stood up and prowled closer, running a hand over Gaby's shoulder and arm as he passed by her along his way.

For a moment, Illya sat frozen. He'd seen what had happened to people before with that look on Napoleon's face, that spark in his gaze. It had never before been directed at him. Well, no more than a few seconds at a time, before Napoleon remembered to turn it off. He wasn't turning it off now. "We should work out the details for the mission," Illya said desperately, opening the folder and flipping through the pages.

His partners laughed at him, back in familiar territory and ganging up on him, despite how the ground had just shifted for all of them. 

"As you will, Peril," Napoleon resettled himself in the chair next to Illya's. "But this isn't over yet."

Gaby sat on the other side, a delighted smile having taken up residence and not showing signs of leaving any time soon. "Not at all," she seconded, "but we could do some more mission work before Waverly comes back."

For once, Illya was grateful to Waverly's habit of making random unannounced entrances, if it would get him out of this. He might have dug the hole himself, but he wasn't so sure now of all that it had trapped.

... ... ... 

Napoleon raised his glass to Gaby in a brief salute. “Are you ready, wife of mine?”

Gaby leaned forward and took a sip from the glass. “Of course, dear husband.” 

They exchanged looks appropriate for a married couple about to enter a den of iniquity. Napoleon put the glass down on the hood of the car, leaving it for the driver to take care of. Gaby adjusted the shawl around her shoulders before taking the arm that Napoleon offered with a smile. They walked up the steps into the mansion, where she promptly handed the shawl over to a very proper butler. 

“The gathering is in the ballroom to the left.” The butler bowed them to the appropriate direction.

Napoleon and Gaby were early, but not too early. Enough others were there already that it wasn’t unduly suspicious. They headed down the hall, noting the closed doors and security points as they went. 

Inside the ballroom, they mingled while scoping the company out. They were not the only new couple in the room, which allowed for both camouflage and diversion. The men were interested in Gaby, the women were interested in Napoleon. And some were interested the other way, or both. She let herself look back – that was, after all, what they were there for. She'd gotten spoiled, however, working with Napoleon and Illya. They were both handsome, strong, smart, and didn't underestimate her. It was a hard bar to overcome, even for spy work. 

Very briefly, she allowed herself to miss Illya’s company. They had seen him the other day, working at the docks with his shirt off. It had allowed her to make a covetous remark with Napoleon teasing that he would see if the dock worker was for sale. That exchange was overheard, and eventually led them here. 

"A sample?" A handsome man about her age held out his hand to her with a smirk.

Gaby supposed at this sort of gathering, one didn't _have_ to be particularly smooth. She smiled at him and leaned forward, resting her hand very lightly on top of his without letting it get grabbed and trapped.

There were worse kisses in the world, she supposed. But it was the arrogance on his face afterwards, his assumption that she was completely smitten now, that really did it.

"I supposed," Gaby mused, withdrawing her hand and trailing it up his arm teasingly, "that having such a handsome face means that you've never had to really try before."

Prepared for a compliment, it took him a moment to hear what she'd said. He narrowed his eyes briefly but apparently decided she was too dumb to really have meant it. "And you are simply lovely. That was a delightful sample."

"Yes, I know my worth," Gaby smiled, showing her teeth, "You, however, need to work a little harder. Handsome on the surface does not always equate talented in other ways. I've often found quite the reverse to be true. As if, having brought somebody in by a pretty face, one thinks they don't have to try any more. Sorry. Good luck elsewhere." 

She turned and got a few steps away before his outraged bellow eclipsed the twitters of laughter all around them. The women in particular were applauding her, but there were enough men who were also nodding. One of them intercepted the handsome oaf and reminded him they were at a ball, not a fight.

Another man, not particularly handsome, but his clothes showing his wealth, held a drink out to her. "That was very well said, if you meant it."

Gaby took the drink. The odds of being drugged here were fairly low, all things considered. A dry white, safer for clothing, good choice in a crowded party. "I went through my share of handsome men." She glanced across the room at Napoleon, who was flirting with three girls and a guy all at the same time. "I know what they are like." Mentally, she apologized to Napoleon, but really, he was an exception to the general rule.

That set the tone for the rest of the night. She flirted, and kissed, and gathered intel, from a large variety of non-handsome men, and a few admiring ladies as well. Napoleon flirted, and kissed, and gathered intel, from an even larger selection of women and men. They made sure their paths crossed regularly and compared notes on the people they'd come across – the sort of notes that these people expected of them, not the ones they really were taking. 

At the end, she shook her head at her admirers and Napoleon winked at his, they promised to return for the next gathering in a week, and they danced the last dance together. 

As they left, Gaby leaned in to Napoleon's strong body. "Are you as restless as I am?"

Napoleon ran his hand down her back all the way to below the belt, though he moved up again before pressing her tightly against him. "That's one word for it," he said roughly.

Gaby giggled. "Should we compare intel now or after?"

"After," Napoleon leaned over and breathed into her hair, going close to her ear, "We could use a little peril tonight."

The two of them had worked well together all this week. They fit smoothly and easily, trading information and exchanging positions without any major issues, and the problems they did run into, they fixed. They were a good team. But they missed their third. 

"Yes," Gaby breathed back, pulling Napoleon's head around until she could kiss him.

It wasn't their first kiss, but it was the first with intent, knowing where they were going after this.

They necked in the car on the way back, fulfilling both the expectations of the driver who they were sure would be reporting back, and also their own physical needs. Wound up tight from playing roles, kissing other people, danger on every corner... and permission to do what they wanted.

Inside the hotel room, they separated with a kiss and then each scouted through, checking for bugs and any sign of their things being disturbed. It looked like they were still accounted just another set of bored, rich tourists, though, and all was clear. 

Napoleon set up the radio and sat down in the arm chair to turn it on. "Duo to Solo, come in."

Sitting on the arm of the chair, Gaby giggled – the impromptu codes on top of the night were too silly.

Napoleon gave her a wink, then tried again. "Duo here, wanting a Trio. Supervise or participate?"

"Your timing is off," came the eventual reply. "Give me fifteen---" There was an abrupt break in his speaking and the sound of gunfire. "Forty. Give me forty---" This time the cut off was more like that of a small explosion.

Gaby and Napoleon raised their eyebrows at each other as they waited. They weren't too concerned – they knew well Illya's particular brand of chaos. And the distractions of the party were, after all, his opening for other raids.

When Illya came back on, he sounded grimly satisfied. "Twenty. Give me twenty minutes."

"We'll be here." Napoleon signed off with an equally satisfied smirk. He looked at Gaby, slipping his arm around her waist. "What shall we do while we're waiting?"

She smiled down at him. "Well, I'm a little hungry..."

... .. ...

Outer clothes were off and bed sheets were turned down by the time Illya came in through the window. He paused, framed like a cameo on a necklace with the lights bright behind him and dim inside. There was enough interior light, though, for him to see Gaby in her bra and panties, Napoleon in his briefs, the two of them tangled on the bed, heads turned to look at him.

"Should come home to this all the time," Illya remarked, his hands opening and closing. Then he crossed the room, bypassing the bed entirely, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Gaby and Napoleon looked at the bathroom door and then at each other. The shower started and they sighed. 

"Well, it is practical."

"And I probably would have told him to do that if he hadn't first."

"But telling him is more fun than him doing it himself."

They laughed at each other and their partner and got back to what they'd been doing.

Within a few minutes, Illya came out, stark naked in all his glory. He'd toweled off, yet there were still a few rivulets coming down from his hair and between his thighs. 

Napoleon sat up and licked his lips. Next to him, Gaby hummed, stretching out her limbs in restless anticipation.

"You both are over-dressed," Illya rumbled as he walked to the bed and looked down at them.

Gaby's bra had damp stains over her nipples where Napoleon had been sucking them through the fabric, alternating so neither got lonely. Illya reached over and cupped his hand over her right breast, his large hand engulfing it entirely. Gaby tilted her head and arched her back, pressing into his grip with a happy sound.

"We were waiting for you," Napoleon remarked, his eyes feasting on all the Illya before him. He'd seen Illya naked before during missions – sharing rooms, changing clothes, unexpected dips... all the usual sorts of occasions. He'd seen Gaby as well, for that matter, and she him. But there was a difference between the casual required nudity during missions when it was the least important of things at the moment, and a deliberate baring of skin for pleasure. A very delicious difference.

Sliding his hand down to her waist, and his other hand joining on the opposite site, Illya braced himself and then lifted Gaby up from the bed, swinging her to him as she laughed and went along. They spun in place for a moment, Gaby humming a dancing tune, her legs around his waist, and her arms outspread, relying completely on Illya's balance. Illya laughed, his eyes fond and playful.

The playful side of their Russian companion didn't show very often. Only when it was the three of them, and only when he was relaxed. It was always a delight to watch it come out. Napoleon smiled at their antics.

Illya came back to the bed and sat Gaby down on the edge. He reached behind her and unhooked the bra, catching it and tossing it off to one side. Then he ran his fingers along the red lines where the straps and edges had been, gently soothing out the skin. 

Gaby ran her fingers through his wet hair, spiking it out as she pulled him to her. 

Kneeling down, Illya leaned forward, his mouth covering a nipple the same way others had tonight, including Napoleon's. No bra, just flesh... and hands that creeped ever inward. First down to the knees, then up along the inside of her thighs, lightly, teasing, stroking back and forth – a little more forth than back each time, ever relentless.

As Gaby moaned, one hand still cupping Illya's head, the other drifting down his neck, Illya lifted his eyes to past her. He lifted his mouth away from her skin, giving another lick as he did. "Just watching?"

"The view is very nice," Napoleon replied, avarice in his eyes, bright and gleaming, watching what he knew had happened before but this time getting to be a part of it. Wanting it still, to possess all of it and claim it – them, as well. His partners.

"The view is better closer."

Gaby tilted her head back until she could see Napoleon behind her, then she winked at him, nodding back towards Illya.

With a chuckle, Napoleon made his way off the bed and then approached behind Illya. He ran his hands down Illya's shoulders, along his back, up again.

"I meant Gaby," Illya murmured, his voice muffled as he was back on skin again, making his way down to meet his hands.

"We know," Gaby gasped out. Illya had very talented hands.

"What you meant," Napoleon concluded the sentence as he knelt behind Illya and kissed, then licked, the side of his neck.

Illya made a sound that was somewhere between protest and encouragement, tangled in his work upon Gaby.

Already so wound up from a night of not the right people but a lot of physical going with the moment, and a long build up waiting, Gaby let it happen. Arching her back, her thighs going tight, her breath quietly gasping in.

Illya pulled his head back, but left his fingers where they were, feeling the flutters around that meant he had done his work well. Not that he could take all the credit this time. He moaned as he felt Napoleon nibbling upon his neck, while his hands roved over Illya's chest.

With a contented sigh, Gaby reached to pull Illya's fingers out from where they lingered. "That was good," she murmured... "Even if you are greedy, to take so first."

He brought his hand up beside his neck and held it still while Napoleon switched nibbling his neck to Illya's fingers instead. 

"Dibs on the second," Napoleon said in a moment between bites and licks.

His companions both chuckled. Then they made their way across the length of the bed, with the last couple of pieces of cloth discarded along the way. 

"We've been here before." Napoleon couldn't resist as they arrived at the pillows.

"And we will be again," Gaby put in. She obviously didn't mind the interlude, still relaxed and working her way up again yet not quite to their level of need just yet. It made her more calculating and sneaky in her actions against them. Or perhaps for them. There was a level of competition between them that sometimes made it hard to tell. Each trying to undo their companions while enjoying that as well.

It was a part of them, their partnership, their possession. And their delight as well.

Limbs tangled each with the other until it was impossible by feel alone to tell who you were touching. Well, not entirely impossible. Napoleon stroked the underside of Gaby's breast, then continued his movement on to Illya's large hands, lingering on the insides of the fingers each of his stroking up each of Illya's, feeling Gaby underneath as well. As he did so, a smaller hand was along his hip, curving inward on the slant of the pelvic bone but sliding up instead of down. Napoleon twitched as she lightly slipped past his belly. He couldn't move too far, with the heavy body bracketing his. Illya ran warm... it must be an advantage in his cold northern origin. Napoleon wasn't always fond of too warm climates, but this one he enjoyed.

They slipped over each other, sweat assisting their movements. Their breaths loud and heavy. Their periodic laughter rich, and the curses heart-felt and invocative. Their kisses shifting wet, or light, or soft, or dirty, all depending on moment and circumstance.

The three of them were right. 

Sex was good, always good. Well, almost always good. 

The three of them together, though... that was something else. 

Each of them alone were good on their own. In pairs, they all worked well together – Illya and Gaby, Gaby and Napoleon, Napoleon and Illya. Here, though... here was where they shone. A trio, together. Running the mission together, in whatever combination they were together, and still working as a team with all three of them. 

Taking that to the next step. They were proven as partners, now with an additional element that felt so right as they were doing it.

"Your turn, Cowboy?" Illya asked, his mouth on Napoleon's neck as he stared over his shoulder at Gaby.

Gaby's pupils were wide and dark, her eyelids half-lowered as she smiled her agreement. Her small hand clasped Napoleon's and brought him closer still.

"Yes, please," Napoleon breathed. "And thank you." It got a laugh from the other two, which he'd played for, but he was also completely sincere as well.

Not the biggest person in bed for a rarity, Napoleon let Illya arrange him to the fussy Russian's liking. A somewhat normal position in general, with the players making it special. Illya hovered behind Napoleon, attending closely. 

"Will you...?" Napoleon asked, turning his head to see as well as feel. Having Illya posed behind him... that was a feeling he never wanted to get tired of.

"After," Illya spoke softly. "After. I want to watch the both of you first." 

"Illya." Gaby pulled him in again with no more than the whole of her, and claimed him for another long kiss, before she released him and then drew Napoleon in for the same.

Then Napoleon was entering her. For the first time, which didn't seem like a first time. For all they knew each other and had worked with each other, and this... this was part of it all. It was still something that made his eyes close and his mouth open to draw in as much oxygen as he could because all his blood, his feeling... He could feel Gaby. He could feel her as he moved inside, he could feel her where he held her, where she held him, where her legs drew up around him, fully participating. He could feel Illya behind him, moving along with them, his hands touching them both, feeling them as they moved, his breaths loud in Napoleon's ear. 

Gaby tossed her head, her fingers clutching at his arms where he held himself up for leverage. She moaned – she who was so quiet through so much of the rest of it when it came to her pleasure. Strong in letting them know what she liked, and finding out what they liked, and combining it all. Yet so careful in pleasure and laughter. Now, she was trusting him, Gaby who was always so controlled and careful. Illya there too, but this was for him. Napoleon was surely doing something right.

When she came, it was with a gasp that leaked her cry of pleasure but quietly. Her face lit with pleasure that Napoleon memorized for now and ever. He stilled his movements to watch her, to feel her around him, to extend the moment and share it. Behind him, Illya bit back a moan of his own and his grip on Napoleon tightened.

Napoleon would have some interesting bruises in the morning, and some memories for a lifetime. Hopefully more to come as well. For now, he watched Gaby.

She blinked slowly, a smile across her face, easy and trusting. "Did you want to finish?"

Napoleon hesitated. He did want to, inside of her. Well, inside of the condom inside of her, but close enough. But there was Illya as well, and while Illya would have him one way or the other, the question of what he wanted more was hard to contemplate.

"You are asking us to think? Really?" Illya chuckled, clasping his arms around Napoleon and easing him back. 

Gladly, Napoleon ceded the thinking to Illya in the moment. He lifted a hand to Gaby's face, tracing her cheek, letting her kiss his fingers, even as he felt himself being prepared. They had been preparing all evening, it didn't take much more.

Illya moved. A little sooner than absolute readiness. Napoleon a little too on edge and close to the moment to relax as he should. Yet still so very, very good. Like nothing else and everything he loved. He loved both ways.

Napoleon always wondered in moments like these, if what he felt was anything like what the women he was with felt. He would never know for certain. Similar in some respects, at least. 

Gaby's hands held his face, traced his cheeks, his eyes, his lips, down his throat. Napoleon's eyes were closed, but he felt it all. All. Illya behind him, hands on his hips, driving into him.

Powerful. As he always knew Illya was. Secure. Safe. Partners.

Napoleon clasped Gaby in his arms and cried out in his release. 

With others, he was controlled and careful, pleasure given and taken, but never control. With Gaby and Illya, his life was theirs. 

It was some bit of time later that Illya stilled and then slumped over them both. Careful, though, to keep his full weight off, even as Napoleon was careful in his turn. 

Gaby shifted and leveraged them over to fall each upon the sheets, same trio and still together, and now able all to relax. 

They shifted in each other's arms, petting and cuddling and reaching all of what they had before. This time with affirmation, not urgent, simply true.

Napoleon was starting to fall asleep, in spite of knowing he should clean up first, when he felt the bed shift behind him.

Gaby made a noise of protest.

"Shhh... Chopshop, Cowboy." Illya rested a hand on each. "Must be back to docks before this is no longer good cover."

There was a long pause, as they all knew the mission still held precedence however didn't want the night to end. Napoleon held Illya's hand, Gaby held Illya as well, they held each other.

Finally, Illya sighed and bent to kiss each of them, both. "Next time," he said softly. "Next time..."

And then they had to watch him dress and leave out through the window again, and it was just Napoleon and Gaby left in each other's arms. Missing their third already. 

"He's still with us," Gaby said, stroking Napoleon's cheek.

"I know," Napoleon replied. He sighed and kissed her lightly, then a little deeper, then lighter again. "Next time."

"Partners share," Gaby agreed with a smile. "Next time."

Tomorrow, on to the next part of the mission. With the secure knowledge that the three of them always were, and always would be a team together, in any and all combinations.

* * *


End file.
